Primal Scream (Box Set #1, Taboo Sex + AFF) (23 page)

Then again, she could be lying. She had an underlying layer of confidence that contradicted her virginal claim.
I bet she’s fingered herself before.

And what was that word she used.
Hungry.
Did he have a hungry look?

It was indeed always on Jake’s mind. His overwhelming desire to find and seek out pleasure with someone whose existence wasn’t defined and based on a baby, or a marriage, or a promise/purity/mood/engagement ring, or “shag list,” and who’d take the time to just.be.nice.to.him—
she knows. She heard me.

But he hadn’t said a thing. And yet, she still wanted it—from him.

Enough talking and thinking, Jake wanted to get his ass over to wherever she’d gone so that he could spread her legs and start eating out her sweet pussy for dinner. He’d do it on the asphalt outside the store, if that’s where she was standing.

What else would she let him do? Cuff her to the bed posts? Paddle her to ecstasy? Rape her? Play with knives? She trusted him—he could choose to kill her, at her most vulnerable—lying, face down, on top of the bed—it’d satisfy his carnal lust, as well as his psychotic murderous streak that reared its ugly head, now and then. Would he ever translate his sick fantasies into action?

He’d only have to take a knife and slice her snow-white throat, keep his knee on her back…send her precious warm blood running down her neckline, and over his fingers…

He had no reason to kill her…but her trust in him kindled his deepest desires.

Were all Asian girls this way? If so, he had clearly spent his youth being in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Maybe she came from a place that didn’t conform to the old adage that women were possessions, who weren’t allowed to grow as people. A place that didn’t harbor the view that sex was evil, just for procreation, or to maximize profits as an effective marketing and sales device, in the glitzy, corrupted world of mass media and commercial advertising.

She knew shit about him—and he, about her. She was quizzically also offering herself fully, in an intimate/sexual sense, and hoping/guessing he could, would too, in return. It was the ones who got past culture-inscribed idiosyncrasies that actually lived on a higher (and far more fun) plane of existence.

Was he up for the challenge?

All of a sudden, in a half-second of a blinding light of truth, Jake saw past her cool, impenetrable exterior. She was a tough cookie. Her standards were high.

She’d be the type who wouldn’t mention a disappointment, if he turned out to take “advantage” of her and the situation, and use her without paying any attention to her gratification…but he would cease to exist, thereafter. She would perceive him to no longer exist, because he had proven himself as unworthy. He’d be just another tool, another douchebag, in the great toilet of life.

She wants to have some fun. Well, hey. Women have their needs too.

He couldn’t say no. It was almost as if she was bringing him to life. He had always been shot down for his “fetish”—and yet, here was the exotic “fetish” herself, allowing him free reign, and the difference was that she was REAL. And being a discerning initiator set her aside from the “easy” high school sluts, along with their lap dances and free sharing of their butts and boobs to the world. He always figured he’d feel the same way if he were female too.
Why’d I want a random person who’d slept with everyone else?
He didn’t want sloppy 222nds.

And since dying a virgin wasn’t exactly what he wanted either…

He paused for a second, considering what people had said about his “Asian fetish.” Did Xing Yi have a Caucasian fetish? Did she expect him to be horny and primed for sex all the time, due to his nationality?

Fuck if I care.
People had shoe fetishes, shemale fetishes, S&M, and all sorts of other fetishes. If an Asian fetish was what gave him great satisfaction, and he didn’t hurt anybody in the process, then so be it.

He hoped she wasn’t warped by sexual hang-ups that she was keeping hidden.

But a person with sexual hang-ups wouldn’t open themselves to pure pleasure. They might even have been up in arms with the peeping tom voyeurism business. Touch them on the hand, and if you weren’t an exact fit of their fantasy of “the ideal man,” they’d label you a molester and guilty of sexual harassment. Hypocrites were always the quickest to inflict guilt upon others.

He was racking his brains, thinking of the possibilities.

They’d have hard and fast, animalistic kinda sex. She’d need a bucket to collect his spilled seed and pre- and post-cum.

Or maybe it’d be tender and chillax. Slow could be nice too. He’d gradually work his way around, savor every decadent lick and suckle. He’d give her hard little bites all over her round, tight ass, as a mark to remember him by
before fucking her brains out

“
What’re you having, later tonight?” Brandon, Jake’s friend and fellow colleague, asked. Brandon was helping him with the inventory. Jake was supposed to have been done half an hour ago.

“
Chinese take-out,” Jake replied, almost cumming in his pants.

He had some planning to do.

He’d discovered the special item on the menu.

# # # # #

Story #2: Jack in the Box

Dedication: For my friends, readers/customers, enemies, fellow Venus Scorpios, and

“
Nir”—thank you.

[Intro]

“
I’ll call you back.”

Deep down, Drea knew what that meant. She could still hear Jack Chin’s voice, the smooth vocals she’d never forgotten, even though she hadn’t heard his voice in years.

Drea felt like her own existence was being denied, the more Jack denied his. He was “dragging her down” with him—she’d heard it in one of his song lyrics anyway.

The girl in her was yearning to be treated as a woman.

Because Jack was the first “lover,” who brought out her sexual feelings—he was the first person she associated erotic sensations and feelings with. Everytime she read, viewed, or imagined something of a sexual nature, it would invariably be tied to him.

She wandered around, both physically and mentally, feeling a complete sense of displacement. It was June 2010; Andrea Sng had gone away to Adelaide, Australia, in 2008, to further her studies. She was going to be visiting Singapore for a few days in June, before heading back to Adelaide for her final year.

I. Past

Drea had gotten so used to Jack’s randomness and mood-swingy, borderline bipolar ways, that it was something she’d become utterly familiar and comfortable with.

i really did love you, at the time

maybe somewhere along the way

you did too

Andrea remembered the lines from a recent email she’d sent to Jack. He started it, after all, back when they were ten years old, thirteen years ago. She still had the note, which had begun to yellow with age, somewhere in the home she’d grown up in. It was a handwritten note where boy-giddy-headed Jack had professed his undying love, long before Drea had known what love really was.

the one I’d pledge my virginity to

Another line she’d confessed, in another long, ardent email she’d recently fired off to Jack.

He never gave any answers. Did Drea shock him too much, or too little? Had he lost interest, overnight? Why still entertain her phone calls or online messages, then?

She was a Virgo, while he was a Libra, born just 9 days later than her. Both loved beautiful things: good looking people, art, anything that was eye candy to them.

She wasn’t sure if Virgos and Libras were a good match. But her Aries ascendant made her physically attracted to Libra types, an attraction that tended to be two-way.

[2008]

Just before Drea left for Adelaide, she and Jack had met at a mutual friend’s wedding. Their blood was fluid and electric underneath the sharp, formal attire their bodies were covered in. Drea could hardly keep her eyes off Jack, six feet tall and lean, but impressively broad-shouldered.

They each went home alone, that night, but proceeded to swap a series of explicit photos and webcam clips, online. Anyone would have admired their photographs—both had dark hair and dark eyes—Drea’s svelte figure and porcelain complexion, versus Jack’s toned physique and healthy tan. He was shy with sharing his photos, even though they were artistic and high-quality shots.
No manscaping for me,
he’d typed in a chat message to Drea. Still, his dick didn’t resemble a Planet of the Apes costume. She liked him au naturale, with the sweaty sheen over his six-foot-tall nude body.

Previously, Drea hadn’t even been very aware or knowledgeable of the construction and aesthetics of their respective anatomies.

[Early 2010]

Drea had a record of Jack’s online screen names. She had scribbled the ever-changing screen names down in one of her spiral notebooks, as she had observed over the months. She’d recorded the cryptic messages out of morbid curiosity at first, before piecing together Jack’s elusiveness and erratic behavior.

==========

(Jack’s MSN Screen Names / from mid 2008 to early 2010)

- Why.

- i’ll be there for you | to grow old with you

- seriously, be serious

- a blind leading another

- operation resurrection

- dead inside. soon to be on the outside.

- the ghost of my past.

- i’m sick of technology. why don’t you just get on top of me.

- sing with me.

- I’m still in
♥
. It takes 2 to make things.

- Yellow.

- igoogled50pagesandcouldn’tfindmysong.

- you know I’m such a fool for you

- I love you. You complete me.

- I will follow you into the dark.

- come on, jack.

- What becomes of the brokenhearted, whose love has now departed.

- Jack – the failure.

- Jack – fog.

==========

Drea had taken such pains to be delicate and careful, with her interactions with him. She thought he had lost his mind. She cared more for him than she cared for herself. She didn’t want to jar his sensitive nature.

When she touched herself in the dark, with her hands running over her breasts, she still wished he was there…she still wished she could hug him and not let go for a long time. She’d long for his hands on her body. Long ago, when they’d explored each other a little bit, her breasts were still young and budding. Now they were plumper. She wanted his hands on them.

She knew he must feel Something, whether it was love or lust, or something in between. She did too. So in the words of one of the songs on his playlist:
what the hell are we waiting for?

His rebuffs were the only thing she’d gotten in return, thus far.

She’d once asked, in a chat message:

Why didn’t you just say something?

Jack replied:

I don’t know. I just couldn’t.

Drea had asked him that question, in late 2009, when she finally figured that she had something to do with his screen names and MP3 playlist. His indifferent answer infuriated her to no end, because it was true that he really “didn’t know” the answer.

Drea had also recorded some excerpts from his old emails, from 2006, when they were just friends—close friends and confidantes, nothing more.